a better twilight, or, the ends justify the means
by BlakDawn
Summary: the OCV hire an assassin to get rid of a dangerously genre savvy werewolf and then a stupid virii. FEATURES 'BUBSY THE RACIST HR DEPARTMENT MASCOT HAMSTER'


OCV Main Building, 43rd floor

OCV, a set of letters in a particular order, associated with so many things, from a trope, to a corporation, called, quite handily, O'Haddon Concrete and Vehicles, originally called O'Hadden Concrete and go-so Vehicles, though shortened in time, it is also the name of the (unofficial) Organised Humanoid Virii and Unknown Biological research, exploitation and extermination group or OCV.

Of course such a group is hardly small, or public, or even American, the entire operation is (you guessed it) Mexican, complete with Taco's and silly hats. Even better the entire operation looked normal, It was completely possible for people, even corporation's to buy concrete and vehicles from the group and never realise it wasn't even a secondary concern, though it was a vital tertiary concern for OCV, currently the reception area was modelled on some sort of vague mix of late Greek and early Roman architecture, complete with essentially a model of the field of Mars and full sized Greek pillars, made out of concrete, which might work if the pillars were built in Roman times, given they invented concrete, but the weird mash up of styles gave it all the historical integrity of a children's cartoon. The actual reception desk is again something completely ridiculous, a very modern 'techy' design, not helped by the concrete, that is imprinted and then painted to look, according to the designer 'like wires trailing down the desk, or Celtic war paint' which depending on which side you take, could have very strange implications to what the company does. In either case the receptionist was not a bored blonde filing her fingers nails (read: the bars), it was actually a surprisingly confident slightly overweight black man, that wouldn't look out of place as a cop, next to him were 4 trays 'in box' out box' 'mad rantings' 'bomb threats' the final actually leads to a small concrete production facility for integration into the concrete and vehicles, the third is regularly taken, cut into minuscule parts and then fed to visitors, and the best part is that OCV could claim back compensation for 'recycling'. Next was a computer, very boring and slow with a screen resolution of 1043x509 and finally was a small button to summon security, all in all a very boring desk, for a boring man, doing a boring job, at a boring company, in his boring life.

One day, at his incredibly boring workplace Bob was doing nothing, he literally had rolled up to work today and was told 'work is closed, stay here, do not use your computer' which meant he had nothing to do, he was a conscientious worker, though fairly unimaginative, and therefore perfect for the job, it also meant he had completed everything in his in box and all his NSFW stuff was on his computer, he hadn't even brought his phone because it's battery was kaput, and it was shit, some old Nokia without even a colour screen, and the box made big noises about this new thing called 'texting'. Just as he was writing down his 456th way of committing suicide in a way that involved cement, concrete, cement in a vehicle or some combination thereof (being run over by a train that is carrying cars packed with cement because the train driver is outrunning another train whose brakes failed because it was carrying 30'678 tonnes of concrete and explosives, which were being used in the fight against concrete allergic space jalapeños) when the front door opened, he looked up in surprise, the doors were locked and the only people who had keys were the night watchmen, himself, the boss, the key manufacturer, the bosses secretary, the bosses son, most of the janitors, HR department, most outsourced component production companies had them delivered in a mix up at distribution, the distribution department, IT, the government, any sufficiently smart person wishing to blow up the the building/take hostages/nick concrete in a car, basically anyone with a Yale key, several known terrorists, the Sri Lankan government and bubsy the companies unofficial and the HR departments official mascot which is actually a hamster dressed up as a Mexican and features in every issue of the company newsletter in increasingly outrageous attempts to evade a actual Japanese block on their products which always manage to make use of concrete and cars and fat Mexicans and the French, in every single idea someone from management, or IT, demands that the company hire more French people and or Inuit's as the bizarre plots call for and then send them armed with concrete laden fish or car sandwiches for the Japanese to eat and realise the joys of extensive use of concrete and cars in their diets.

Utterly mad, but it made sense in context, either way the man that walked in didn't fit any of the people that had keys, for a start he didn't have a key and for a second he had an extremely large gun strapped to his back.

Not as in pops up above his shoulder and come to rest at his lower back, we're talking a serious business gun that went higher than his head and was all but kissing his kneecaps, on the other side was a smaller though no less bad ass looking gun, some form of combat shotgun, if his knowledge of left behind was up to scratch, he also wore a full black trench coat, not a frilly fashion statement you might see these days, but one that could probably go through the great war just fine, in fact his barely revealed anything, only that the man was tall, and Bob could tell it was grudging. It was as if this guy had taken a degree in badassery and then proceeded to curb stomp and destroy his tutors until they gave him the degree (and don't get me started on who he got the masters). Seriously the only thing lacking was the completely blacked out glasses, but somehow he doubted it would matter, his eyes were black and irises were massive, almost deformed to the point that almost his entire eye was black, as if he had been in total darkness his whole life.

"I'm here to see the management" if Bob had been expecting, say, Neo form the matrix or, even more bad ass, an agent, he was sorely disappointed, the voice was entirely normal and completely boring, still every hero has a flaw, but not bad asses. Bob was more taken aback by the normality of the statement and his jaw worked for several seconds without making a noise, the man just looked at him for a second

"top floor, first on the right, got it" then he brushed past Bob anjd called an elevator. Once he had stepped into it and the doors had closed bob never saw him again.

Except on his way out.


End file.
